So, yeah, Katie's kind of getting really good at chess. She won her school's chess club competition (beating even Year 6 students). She did herself proud at the Gigafinal. When we got home Andrew got a call from some guy who runs the under-11s chess club for Kent. She's been invited to join. They just happen to be the best team in the country right now.

The girls' school let out on Tuesday, so I thought it would be fun to bring Katie to school with me on Friday. Even in an unstructured day, I don't think Buffy could sit back and let me teach. Maybe someday? (Dream on!) Katie was thrilled. She squeezed her hands into excited little fists under her chin and said, "More school?!" Our little geek! As it was going to be a Friday, I asked if she could join the chess club.

My school's chess club is very boy-heavy. Katie has only played girls and her dad. I wanted to see how she'd do with a bunch of big boys. Could they intimidate the good play right out of her? First she played the coach (who is also a coach on the Kent team), then he placed her with a student whom he felt would be a good match.

A boy.

An 11-year-old boy.

Katie thrashed him!

Katie's having a sensational week. Yesterday she was awarded her Bronze level certificate in ice skating. That's her ELEVENTH skating certificate in nine months. We are staggered.

Also this week the head teacher invited her to join the orchestra on the strength of her recorder playing abilities and she came in first in chess club. First out of about fifteen kids. First out of fifteen Year 4-6 children. She's in Year 3. And she's got the trophy!

We are falling-on-the-floor, weak-in-the-knees staggered. Mostly we are just so proud of how she's choosing to live her life.

Earlier this week in a pique of motherly love, I bought my girls some treats from Noa Noa: some tights for Buffy, and a top for Katie. Katie has worn it every opportunity since. She even wore it today when she was colouring... and thinking... and itching... and scratching. She scratched that indelible black pen right on her brand-new, sky-blue, lace-edged top. I was livid. Absolutely through-the-roof angry. I was so angry, in fact, I had to walk around the block to cool down. I came back in to reassure her I really did love her more than the top. Then I ate some food to stabilise my blood sugar and everything was happy again.

This evening I was nit-combing my way through Buffy's now-luxurious locks (no nits, hooray!) when Katie stomped downstairs, "Buffy drew on my bed!" She could well have added, "Again!" Naughty Buffy, always drawing on things. I wish I could be like the Casson family and give her a wall to decorate, but I'm not. I prefer she colour on paper. So does Katie.

I half suspected something was up when she came down with both hands and one cheek tattooed in swirls and squiggles. She explained she had just found the pen and had done it just before coming downstairs. I confiscated the pen and told her to wash up. She'd only done it to herself, so that was that. I guess I was wrong. (Again!) I know realise she had been in bed covering herself in ink and had inadvertently made a mark on Katie's sheets. How do I know? It's all in what she wrote on Katie's bed:

"Sorry"

A tweet from darryl1974, our resident Green candidate for Peninsula Ward councillor, and 853 blogger:

On the P4 to Lewisham, passing Casino Avenue... it always comes back to here.

Although it had already dawned on me a couple of weeks ago, it's sad that it's taken me until now to realise what must be south-east London blogging's worst-kept "secret".

If you see a slightly confused man who doesn't seem to know where he's going bumbling about on the streets of Greenwich, it's probably Nick Raynsford. Nick has been MP for Greenwich and Woolwich for some time now, but his most recent term has been marked by its combination of disinterest in local issues and blatant lobbying on behalf of the construction industry.

His website has a potted bio, but it omits some facts which need to be included for completeness's sake. Thanks to Wikipedia which isn't so selective.

How could they not include the fact that Nick Raynsford was in fact born with a silver spoon in his mouth as Wyvill Richard Nicolls Raynsford? Why fail to mention that he grew up in Milton Manor? And that he was educated at the uber-posh private Repton School?

I'm sure the Labour Party will wish to correct these blaring omissions at the earliest opportunity. I mean, I'd hate for Raynsford to attempt to campaign on the basis of Labour's working class roots without making his own background totally transparent.